


I Found Them

by LostintheFandom



Series: Mechangaroo AU [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mechangaroos, Non-Graphic Gore, Rescue, Sparklings, i guess, it happened once in a dream, it's life really, nah i like Sparklings, one of my fave ships, or should they be called Joeys?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostintheFandom/pseuds/LostintheFandom
Summary: Ratchet's off to find a way to shut his whining creation up when he comes across something, or two somethings, slightly more important.I have come to love this AU. I hope you like it too!





	1. Chapter 1

Ratchet was not an asocial mechangaroo. At least he didn’t think so. He was simply choosy about who he spent his time with especially considering that the mob consisted mostly of younglings and young adults.

He was mostly white with orange patterns. Mainly his ears, and a long stripe running from his forehead to the tip of his tail, and the fine opticbrow platelets above his optic were orange. But there was also this peculiar line that ran across his flanks that went jagged in the middle before smoothing. He’d spent some time wondering about the odd pattern when he was young but not anymore.

Ratchet sniffed around the bushland floor hoping to sniff out some red-purple root crystals. Rodimus’… adventurous nature led him to eating a white-yellow calcite cluster and it wasn’t agreeing with him. Hopefully Ratchet could find something to make his creation stop whining… and hurting.

He paused when he caught a worrying scent. One of drying energon and overheated metal. He rose up, leaning on his tail, and stuck up his ears. He could faintly hear the distinct screech of tearing metal and his spark fluxed worryingly. Ratchet wasted no time in investigating the matter and he soon came upon a rather disturbing sight.

A small pack of dyngoes were busy tearing into the slowly cooling and graying corpse of a ‘roo that must have collapsed in the heat. Ratchet shook his head, such was life. He turned to leave but before he did his sensitive ears picked up the sound of a distressed whirr.

He froze. That was not an adult sound, adults do not whirr in that pitch. He padded slowly to the source of the sound and ducked to look under the thicket it was coming from. He barely withheld a gasp.

Two small sparklings, looking like they’d barely entered the age to emerge from the pouch, or were about to enter it, cowered under the thicket. They looked at him with large scared and confused optics. One was barely forming red and the other was yellow. Their plating was faded at the edges from spending too long in the heat before they were ready.

Ratchet cooed at them and the sound broke them from their stupor. They rushed from under the thicket with drooped ears and leaking optics as they cuddled into the fine platelets of his underbelly and began sniffing around his pouch. Sparklings were so trusting at this age, it was a good thing that all ‘roos were hardwired and programmed to protect them.

Ratchet contemplated declining the ping to engage his pouching protocols but another distressed whirr ended that line of thought. The caliper of his pouch entrance loosened as the protocols were engaged and he could feel fuel being rerouted to his feeding nubs. The sparklings wasted no time tumbling into the pouch and twisting around each other until they were both comfortably suckling on a nub.

Ratchet grunted at the added weight as he tightened the pouch caliper. He’d never carried two sparklings at once. He didn’t doubt he’d have to ask Optimus carry one of them when they grew bigger.

As he readied to return to the mob, his search for root-crystals forgotten, he spared a final glance at the dyngoes. They were looking at him curiously but didn’t seem to intend to attack him, not when they had a fresh kill to feast upon. He gave them a warning growl before hopping away, slowly at first and then faster once he found his balance.

 

Optimus lounged under the shade of a crystal-tree. He was the largest mechangaroo of the mob. Helm blue, the colour stretching down his backstrut to spill over his legs and tail, his flanks, arms, chest plate and underbelly were a rich red that he took care of diligently.

Beside him, his creation, red and gold with biolights on his flanks, was lying on his back and scratching his belly, just under his flame-patterned chestplate, and bemoaning his aching tanks. Optimus indulged him by actually listening to his occasional complaints, knowing that his mate would be far less kind when he returned.

Speaking of Ratchet, here he came.

Optimus frowned and tilted his head as he noted the very evident bulge in his mate’s pouch. Beside him, even Rodimus quit moaning for once. “Ratchet?” Optimus asked as the rest of the mob went silent, noticing Ratchet’s condition.

Ratchet merely huffed as he settled himself under the shade. “Not a word. They were doomed to die. I found them. I’m keeping them and that’s that.”

Of course, Optimus, or anyone, would never turn away a lost, injured, or orphaned sparkling. That was just not their way. But…

“…Them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So kangaroo twins do happen but they are very rare.
> 
> Also I am beggining to realise that I probably should start tagging these as crack but that would imply that i'm not really taking this seriously, which I kind of am. Hmm... What to do?
> 
> Might also add a second chapter to this. What do you think?


	2. Can I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not fully satisfied with this but... it'll have to do. Hope you liked it :)

“Can I play with them?”

Rodimus had spent the better part of the day laying near his carrier. Endlessly curious and instinctively protective of Ratchet in his mobility-compromised state. He’d laid there with his optics intently focused on the mostly closed pouch.

“No, Rodimus,” Ratchet said. He’d gotten used to his creation’s vigilance sometime around mid-morning. “They’re too young.”

Rodimus’ ears drooped. This was the third time he’d been declined playing with his new, unexpected siblings. His tail twitched impatiently. “When can they come out?”

“Whenever they decide,” Ratchet said as he pushed himself to stand and lean back on his tail. The little ones were pressing down uncomfortably on the left side of his pouch. “You will still not play with them the way you do with Blaster.”

Rodimus huffed grumpily and flopped down by his carrier. Nobody was playing in the midday sun, they didn’t even want to splash in the waterhole. Blaster was over there sleeping under a bush, completely oblivious to the world and Swerve could sleep through an earthquake. He sighed miserably.

Ratchet had just started to relax when he felt Rodimus perk up again and he withheld a sigh.

“Can I see them?”

“…” Ratchet sighed. After a moment of contemplation he loosened the pouch caliper. His protocols urged him not to let the red and gold youngling near the pouch, reminding him to save his fuel for the sparklings but Ratchet knew that Rodimus’ wasn’t coming to fuel. Rodimus almost jumped in excitement.

He padded closer to his carrier and gently pulled the pouch further open with his paw as he leaned over to peek inside. His mouth opened slightly and his head tilted curiously. The two little ones were all curled over each other with legs and paws and tails sticking out every-which-way and yet still managed to fit snuggly into the pouch.

Ratchet idly discarded the pings telling him to push Rodimus away as he let his creation sate his curiosity. He sagged slightly when he felt a nibble on the fine plating at the base of his ear and turned to greet his mate with a nuzzle.

Optimus came to stand beside Ratchet and looked into the pouch with a warm expression. One of his ears twitched in amusement when the red one sniffled and sneezed before curling into his brother.

“What’ya gonna call them?” Rodimus asked, looking up at his carrier with big eyes.

“They might already have names, Rodimus,” Ratchet said. “We must wait until they are ready to tell us.”

The little ones’ ears twitched slightly at the sound of their voices and they shifted in the pouch, causing Ratchet to grumble and rock on his feet until they settled.

“Oh,” Rodimus said, sounding thoughtful as he let go of the pouch and the caliper tightened, sealing the sparklings away from the outside heat and light. “That’s fine, I guess.”

He didn’t much care about their names, really. He just wanted to play with them.

“So when do you think they’ll tell us?”

Ratchet sighed.


End file.
